


as a haven, as a cage

by Ailelie



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Families of Choice, Female Protagonist, Gen, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:37:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailelie/pseuds/Ailelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the labyrinth, before Minos knew of the Minotaur's parentage, before Daedalus was imprisoned and needed to flee--Ariadne was a young girl with a surplus of siblings, curiosity, and heart. She tries to help her older brother as he confronts the monster within while also confiding her own fears in Icarus, who is her big brother in every way but blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as a haven, as a cage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emilyenrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyenrose/gifts).



> This story would not exist without (a) the fantastic prompt, (b) Cinaed who let me ramble on and on while I was reviewing the mythology and building a timeline, (c) Kaesa who let me run my initial outline by her and then also beta'd the story (with the knowledge of what I was intending at each point), (d) Luna who came to the story fresh and beta'd it through, and (e) theoi.com. Thank you!!

"Am I a monster?" Asterion asked, his hands flashing like birds over still water. Fragments of pottery and a torn wall-hanging littered the room. Blood was punched over and over into one wall like letters of some language Ariadne could not interpret.

She leaned against his shoulder, resting her head where his olive skin blackened into soft bull hide. "No." She ignored the stink of animal sweat and wrapped her arms around him. Asterion shook silently in her embrace, his hands closed tightly over each of her own. Ariadne clenched her eyes shut and held on to her brother as firmly as the sky to a star.

**~**

Daedalus lived in the south tower. He gave lessons at the very top of the tower. He and Ariadne's mother would discuss the movements of the stars, the future, past, and all the stories in between. The lessons never strayed from astronomy, though. When Ariadne once asked to learn to build as he did, Daedalus had only looked down over the tower and shook his head. "The gods would not be so forgiving twice," he'd said and refused to explain more.

Ariadne often found her way to Daedalus' tower when Asterion was training with his sword or taking other lessons necessary for the coming war. Phaedra would try to follow, but Ariadne knew the palace better than her sister and had long ago made a game of losing Phaedra. This time was no different. Ariadne ducked into a secret hollow in the wall, hidden by an elaborate tapestry that Acacallis had woven with their mother. Phaedra pattered past, calling out for Ariadne. Ariadne slipped out from the behind the tapestry and darted down another corridor. She followed the twisting halls to the south tower. Instead of taking the stairs up to one of the workrooms, she walked down.

"Icarus?" The door at the bottom of the dark staircase opened to a golden room. Icarus grinned up at her.

"Come hiding again, Little Ari?" he asked, stepping back and allowing her into his room. The diminutive warmed Ariadne; with Deucalion off to Calydon, Icarus was the only one who used it.  "What is biting at your ankles this time?"

"Phaedra," Ariadne said. "And boredom."

"If it is puzzles you want, you should see my father," Icarus said. He motioned to a low couch for Ariadne to sit.

"I like your puzzles," Ariadne said.

Icarus' smile pulled up at one corner. "What do you need, Little Ari?"

"Asterion asked me if he was a monster," Ariadne said, looking down at her hands. Her throat felt tight "I told him 'no,' but—"

"What happened?" Icarus asked.

Ariadne started to shrug, but the movement broke into shudders. Icarus was at her side in an instant. Ariadne turned toward him, pressing her tears against his tunic. As far back as Ariadne could remember, Icarus was always there, as warm and constant as the sun. "I don't know what to do," Ariadne said, her voice muffled against him.

"I know," Icarus said, finger-combing her hair. He pressed a kiss against her head. "I know."

**~**

Ariadne was four when she realized her older brother did not shape words like the rest of her siblings or she did. She could see his frustration each day when their older brothers talked around him as if he were invisible. She had gone running to Daedalus for a solution, since Daedalus always had a solution, but he had been busy carving. "Besides," he'd told her, "animals cannot speak."

Icarus had caught her while she was running out of the tower, angry and frustrated. He'd picked her up, holding her even when she kicked at him, and asked why she was running. Then he'd listened. "My father is right," he'd said. "Asterion's mouth is not like ours, but—" he'd held up her hand, spreading her fingers against his palm "—his hands are, aren't they?"

Ariadne's smile had spread slowly, matching Icarus's. "Can he really talk with his hands?" she'd asked as Icarus lowered her to the ground.

"I bet I can find a way."

The lessons had started not long after. Ariadne loved the quick flashing of hands as much as she loved to dance. Deucalion and Acacallis had learned most of the signs, as did Phaedra once she was older, but only Icarus could ever match Ariadne and Asterion's speed and fluency.

**~**

"—Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!" Ariadne uncovered her eyes and looked around the room. A servant was cleaning a large, painted urn in one corner of the room. Ariadne ignored him and slipped out into the hallway. The trick to the game, Icarus had taught her, was not to try and follow signs of where the other person had gone, but rather to know the other person well enough to guess their destination. With this in mind, Ariadne moved away from the outer walls and toward the rooms their tutors used. She moved quietly, checking each room and corner for sign or shadow of her brother.

She found him hiding behind a work bench. His horns poked over the edge of the wood like upright nails. "Found you," she exclaimed.  She reached to help him up, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down beside him.

"Quiet," he signed with a sharp slash on his hand. Ariadne covered her mouth and listened for what Asterion heard. A moment later, she was able to make out voices. Still later, she could recognize and understand them. Glaucus and Xenodice were discussing Glaucus' lessons again. His tutor would not teach anyone but Glaucus to auger the future, had not even wanted to do that much if Asterion was to be believed. So after each lesson, Glaucus taught Xenodice himself.

"—but are the symbols constant?" Xenodice asked, her voice curious, but somber.

"I do not believe so. Polyidus suggested the smoke is merely an aid for those of us unable to commune more directly with divinity."

"Visions, then?"

 "As always," Glaucus said with a heavy sigh. He did most things heavily, Ariadne thought. Once Glaucus would have been first to join in their games. He had always found the best hiding places and was the swiftest as finding the others playing. He'd been quick to laugh and dance, spinning Ariadne around until they'd both fall over with dizziness. All of that had been shed in his tomb, though, and now his every movement and word was imbued with immeasurable weight.

Ariadne missed her brother.

When Glaucus and Xenodice had passed by and were out of even Asterion's hearing, Asterion tapped Ariadne's shoulder and started signing. "We should try that."

"Try what?" Ariadne signed as she spoke, letting her hands dance to the melody of her words.

"Looking to the future," Asterion replied. "I can get us a bird to sacrifice. Ask Icarus if we can use his father's tower. Unless Mother has a lesson, we shouldn't be disturbed there."

"Why do you want to know the future?" Ariadne asked. Asterion slid a hand down one of his horns and over the warm pocket of his cheek to his snout. Ariadne reached out, lowered his hand, and squeezed it. "I'll talk to him."

**~**

"My father's tower, Little Ari?" Icarus raised one eyebrow at her.

"Asterion wanted me to ask," she said.

"Of course he did." Icarus pushed his hair back and sighed. "Little good was ever won from seeking the future, Little Ari."

"He wants to know if his curse will ever end," Ariadne said softly.

Icarus made a strange face as if he had eaten something foul. "And if he does not receive any answers?"

Ariadne shrugged. "We just want to try."

"Very well. I will ensure the tower is unoccupied—just you, Asterion, and me."

Ariadne threw herself forward, catching Icarus in a hug. "Thank you. Thank you."

Icarus touched her hair briefly, muttering, "Don't be thanking me yet, Little Ari."

Ariadne stepped back and looked up at him, her face shining bright with a smile. Icarus squinted at her, still with that strange expression, but then his shoulders fell and his mouth upturned. He rubbed his palm over her curls. "You're welcome."

**~**

As the sun melted down the horizon, Icarus prepared their fire. Asterion held a cooing bird carefully between his hands. Beside him, Phaedra watched them with her eyes wide and her lips rolled inward. Anxious over their plans, Ariadne had not noticed Phaedra trailing after her until Asterion, meeting her at the steps of the southern tower, had looked over her shoulder and whuffed in agitation. Now they had to include her, or else risk her running to Xenodice or Glaucus with tales tripping over her lips. They had made her promise silence, however.

Icarus prayed over the fire, asking Apollo for clarity and guidance. Ariadne met Asterion's gaze over the flames. Though his face did not carry expression, his eyes were a tempest of hope and fear. Ariadne forced herself to smile, but she could feel its unsteadiness in her cheeks.

"Now for the offering," Icarus said. He reached for the bird.

Asterion looked down at his hands. "I should—" he started. One hand flexed. Icarus touched his wrist.

"I'll do it." He relieved Asterion of the sacrifice and, with a quick, efficient twist, killed the bird. As Icarus laid the bird in the fire, Ariadne watched Asterion. She wondered what emotion tightened his hands into fists, whether it was relief or regret over not having had to kill the bird himself. Ariadne pinched the back of her knee hard; Asterion was not a monster.

The burning feathers stank and the smoke watered Ariadne's eyes. She blinked rapidly and concentrated on the shapes rising from the flames. The sky darkened into night and dark clouds moved through her gaze. Her chest burned. Her ears rang.

She saw a great, black bird with wings as large as sails soaring toward the stars. She gasped aloud at the bird's grace as it flew higher and even higher.  Then, without warning, the bird froze in the sky and plummeted, disappearing below into a frothing sea as red as wine. "No!" she yelled, leaning forward, ready to dive and save the lovely bird from the waves.

Arms wrapped around her. A voice, tight and desperate, burrowed through her vision. Ariadne fell backward against Icarus. The fire was out.

Asterion gaped at her. Phaedra was up and ready to run. Only Asterion's hold on her wrist kept her in place. "Vision?" he asked, the sign awkward on his right hand.

"I saw a bird," she said. "It fell into the sea and died. I'm sorry."

Asterion shook his head and Ariadne knew they would not be trying again. She breathed in deeply and stood. "We should go to bed."

"That sounds wise," Icarus said. "I'll handle this." He motioned to the ashes. Ariadne nodded.

"Come on, Phaedra," she said, holding out her hand to her sister's free one. "Asterion?"

Asterion released Phaedra and followed them both away from the tower. When Ariadne was sure her sister would not run off, she let go and signed to Asterion. "I wish I had seen something for you."

"Maybe you did. Maybe my humanity is your bird."

"No!" she signed three times in quick succession. Asterion reached over and stilled her hands.

"I almost hurt Phaedra," he said. "Her wrist will bruise."

"You were scared," Ariadne signed back.

"Maybe." He paused when Phaedra glanced back at them over her shoulder. "It is hard, sometimes," he added once she was no longer looking.

"You are not a monster." Ariadne tried to force every drop of her conviction into the quick motions of her hands.

Asterion did not reply.

**~**

Ariadne slipped down the steps of the south tower once again. Phaedra was taking lessons with their mother and Asterion was practicing his archery. Icarus' door stood open at the base of the steps.

"Expected you sooner, Little Ari," Icarus said. He slouched at his seat, his eyes and smile dim.

"Asterion thinks my vision means he'll become a complete monster one day," Ariadne said without preamble. She sat down across from him.

Icarus shook his head. "The future is not so neat, I fear. Your vision could mean many things."

"Like?" Ariadne prompted.

"I'm no soothsayer, Little Ari," Icarus said, rubbing at his eyes. "I want to show you something." He stood and walked past her to his door. "Upstairs."

Ariadne followed Icarus up to one of Daedalus' workshops. Icarus moved to a workbench sunlit beneath a high window. He shuffled through a pile of parchments. Ariadne hovered at his elbow and tried to read the various pages before Icarus shifted them out of sight. The last page was a drawing.

"What is this?" Ariadne asked, moving closer.

"A labyrinth," Icarus said. He pointed to one edge of the drawing. "This is the entrance." He traced his finger along the parchment. "Every path leads to the center." He tapped the central point.

"What is it for?"

"Asterion."

"Like a cage?" Ariadne asked, pulling back.

"No, Little Ari," Icarus said. "Like a haven. In the labyrinth he can rage without worrying he will hurt anyone. The close walls will remind him of the palace interiors, places where he is human."

"How will he find his way out?" Ariadne asked. "If every path leads to the center?"

Icarus smiled softly. "You're the one who comes seeking puzzles."

Ariadne frowned at the drawing. She touched the labyrinth's center and drew a line to the entrance. "You have to retrace your steps," she mused. Looking to Icarus, she asked, "Chalk?"

"That is one way," Icarus said. "There are better." He rubbed one hand over her shoulders. "Asterion has a monster in him, Little Ari. Denials favor no one. With this, he can leave his monster inside the labyrinth."

"So you think he'll never be fixed."

Icarus squeezed her shoulder. "I think he is your brother, Little Ari. I think there is nothing to fix."

"Phaedra is scared of him."

"Phaedra is little yet, still more silly than sensible."

Ariadne leaned against Icarus. "What if he does become a monster?"

"I am watching over you both, Little Ari," Icarus said. "I promise to keep you both safe." Ariadne turned, pressing her face into the warmth of Icarus'  chest. He lifted her into a hug. "I promise," he repeated.

Ariadne held on tighter, like a star clinging to the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> Read the comments. :)


End file.
